Not by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin

There is a certain beauty in growing old, specifically the glide toward accepting that everything falls apart at some point.
Humor is the only way to secure sanity when noticing the depletion and decline of our personal vessel.
I no longer find myself defined by my concave stomach (which vanished some 17 years ago never to be heard from again), or my muscular toned legs (which checked out when I got lazy and stopped dancing), or my clavicle (which only appears nowadays via some well placed bronzer).
And truth be told, I'm okay with it. Oh sure, I want to lose those extra 30 lbs, eat clean, and learn to jog, but there much be some part of me that's okay with the whole getting older thing and the accompanying permission to let it all go.
There's a part of me that can't wait to be the somewhat chunky grandma in the room with fire in her eyes and not a care in the world.
The stage I'm at in the aging process, however, seems to foreshadow the irony of things to come.
Some background info: I'm the woman who leaves the house every morning without a stitch of makeup on and rarely even looking at myself in a mirror.
This means I have the tendency to waltz into places with eye boogers and overnight white heads for all to see, but feeling overly confident with my appearance.
Realizing this about myself, I thought I maybe needed to look in the mirror a little more; this is what I found:
Aside from the eye boogers and the zits, some nicely placed in the crease of a wrinkle, I noticed that my hair is growing in much thinner, finer and white. I don't have any problem with this part of getting older. I think white hair is badass. My grandpa had gorgeous silver hair which I'm hoping I inherit. I find white/silver hair regal. It's also a good thing if I don't need to highlight my hair anymore; the thinning and wispy thing though - eh.
But, and I say this with a long pause...
But the hair on my chin is another story all together. The hair on my chin is growing in thicker, coarser and blacker, which is no where near regal.
Not even remotely.
Nope.
The irony is not lost on me; not just the physical irony, the emotional irony as well.
Remember how I want to be the somewhat chunky grandma with fire in her eyes and not a care in the world?
Well, I could embrace the freaky black chin hairs and run with it, but then I might scare the grandchildren but that's just uncool. And what kid wants a grandma they describe as "Round, with white hair and a goatee?"
Kind of kicks the embracing-aging-with-reckless-abandon thing on it's ass, if you ask me.
So, I will try to remember to check myself in the mirror on a regular basis - with my reading glasses on of course because I can't see a friggin' thing without them - and I will temper my embracing the freedom of aging with some regard for not freaking out the rest of the population with whom I come into contact.
And I will monitor the eye boogers, whiteheads and chin hairs for the grandchildren.
Dammit, I'm doin' it for the grandchildren!

Lotus Buddha and little tearful Sweet

A little while ago the very sweet neighbor girl came over to our house to play with Sass.
I was in the other end of the house when out of nowhere I hear "Sweet" ask my daughter, "Do you love Jesus? Have you taken him into your heart?"
I immediately bolted into the other room.
We are a family comprised of an Atheist, an Agnostic and three undecideds - two strongly leaning the direction of the two aforementioned viewpoints.
"What?," I asked.
Sweet repeated her questions.
"Well Sass, what did you say?"
"I said yes.," she replied.
"Do you know anything about him?," I asked.
She shook her head.
"Don't you think you shouldn't say you love someone until you know who they are first?"
She nodded.
I then looked over at Sweet who looked as though she was on the verge of tears; completely perplexed and frightened by the dialogue happening before her.
"Sweetie, you're not in trouble," I told her, "It's just that we're going to let out children decide for themselves when they get a little older what they believe in as far as God goes."
She broke out in tears.
I asked her why she was crying and told her there was no need for it.
Her response confused me.
It still does.
"It's just that I love my Daddy so much.," she struggled to say through her tears.
"What's that have to do with asking Sass if she loves Jesus?"
"It's just that I love my Daddy so much and he loves Jesus."

"Yes, I know he does, but we don't discuss God and religion here, okay?"
She nodded her head.
And then the conversation shifted to Monster High dolls, and Build-A-Bears.

Indoctrination is not something I understand.
I know there are parents out there who believe it vital to raise a child who believes in God.
I do not.
I don't believe spirituality is something you train a child to understand.
Spirituality, or lack thereof, is a personal journey.
As with most other behaviors I observe the masses engaging, lack of support for free-thought, personal exploration and decision making regarding an individuals spiritual belief system is one of the most frustrating to me.
I truly believe that most of the people who are passionately religious as a result of their upbringing have never honestly questioned and examined why they have the viewpoint they do.
And I am deeply saddened by the overtly sexist mentality that seems to accompany the indoctrination process.
That is why the little girls response about loving her daddy troubled me so much.
Is she being taught to fear him?
Is she being taught that he is the ultimate authority and anyone who deviates from his sentiment is wrong?
Why else would she cry at the conversation and respond as she did?

I have had some concerns about this family.  They don't let their children play outside much, seemingly forcing them to steer clear of the other children - ignoring their obvious desire to engage. Their house is on a constant state of disarray & hazardous clutter. They don't allow the children to go to school, opting to home school instead. And it's not the homeschooling I have an issue with, per se, it's the fact that the children are scathingly behind in what they should know. Their cognitive skills are incredibly remedial for what they should be at their age. Their 7 year old son writes "I love Jesus" all over in sidewalk chalk, but said, and I quote, "I'm going to be 9 in three more numbers."
When you compare their comprehension and communication skills with that of Sass and the other kids in the neighborhood, it's really quite disheartening.

But, I digress.
Back to not discussing religion in this house... Should mention all this happened on the very day we planted a brand new Buddha fountain on the front porch - in the direct sight line of their front yard?
No?
Okay.

We're not discussing it.

I think we might be doing something right...

This is her shadow study.
Even the birds cast shadows
(but not the magical bunny).

 Her poetry.

I'm pretty impressed by  her

thought process for this project.

Note: the reference to Tigers on a Plane is because she saw tigers on her spring break and "most people go someplace on a plane for Spring Break."

Makes sense.
(click on pic to enlarge)

Girl.
Cat.
Robot.

Robot details.
I like them.

Scientist.

sigh... :)

You go Baby!!